


Cat Fight

by piecesof_reeses



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: BFF squad, Entrapta the enabler, F/F, Fluff and Crack, Pets, Scorpia bakes!, Sharing a Bed, an actual cat, mild animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 16:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecesof_reeses/pseuds/piecesof_reeses
Summary: The Princess Alliance acquires a highly lethal and very furry secret weapon. Catra disapproves in the extreme.//AKA: Catra meets a cat for the first time.





	Cat Fight

**Author's Note:**

> (I make no apologies for the awful pun of a title)

"They've got a new weapon! We have to alert everyone!" Catra gasps out, holding one hand against her side to help stem the bleeding.

"Who?" asks Entrapta without looking up from her tablet.

"The--the _Rebellion!_   Do you even know what war we've been fighting--" Catra says, outraged, but Scorpia cuts her off with one large claw to her shoulder.

"Catra, what _happened_  to you? Are you okay?" She gingerly touches the many wounds on Catra's face and shoulders.

"Thank you, _Scorpia_ , for being concerned," Catra says. "I barely got away! They've got some secret weapon in their arsenal, and--" she breaks off, staring at Scorpia. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this?" Scorpia laughs a little self-consciously, then gives a twirl. "Do you like it? I dug it out of my trunk from home. I think my mom packed it for me."

"It's an apron."

"A pink frilly apron," Scorpia corrects. "Safety first in the kitchen, Mom always said. It protects from burns and oil splashes. Plus, it looks great."

At this, Entrapta finally stops tapping madly away and looks up. She studies Scorpia, then says decisively, "I like it."

"Thank you, Entrapta!" Scorpia says, beaming. "I put it on to make brownies. I really want to make post-mission desserts a thing, you know? A BFF thing."

"We're getting off-track. I just said the princesses have a new secret weapon! We've got to sound the alarms," Catra says, waving her hands around to make her point. Which is that this is a very serious, very urgent matter.

"Yeah, we heard you," Entrapta says. "I didn't see any new weaponry, though."

"Just the same old Rebellion stuff," Scorpia agrees.

"They didn't let it out around you guys! It was only after I cornered Adora--"

"Oh, okay," Entrapta says in a highly unflattering tone of voice. "I get it now."

"Catra, don't you think you might be taking this a little too far? I really feel like your fixation on Adora has been distracting from our focus on these missions," Scorpia adds. 

"My--my _fixation?_ " Catra sputters.

"You come back at least half an hour late after each mission we go on together," Entrapta says, looking at her nails studiously. "This time, you're a whole hour late. And then when you finally get back, you always say the same stuff about needing to go after Adora and _make her understand how wrong she is about everything_." The last part is said with air quotes and a comically low pitch of voice that Catra refuses to believe is supposed to be a mimicry of her.

"Honestly, if we didn't know better, we'd think you were sneaking off to mmphmm," Scorpia says, voice dwindling down to an incomprehensible mumble after Catra narrows her eyes at her. At least her death glares are still having an effect. Catra is losing all respect around this place.

"Adora is the linchpin of the Rebellion's offensive strategy!" Catra says. She gets the feeling like she might be repeating herself, especially when Entrapta rolls her eyes outright, but she presses forward. "Taking her out would effectively hobble the Princess Alliance. It's a surefire way to victory."

"You're the only one of us who thinks Adora's that important," Scorpia tells her, looking apologetic. When Catra snarls at her, she just smiles sweetly and says, "I'm off to the kitchens! Who wants brownies?"

"Ooh, me! Definitely me! Can you make them in miniature?" Entrapta asks eagerly, and they walk off. Catra has no choice but to follow along behind them, stewing fruitlessly.

When they get to the kitchens, Catra crosses her arms and grumbles, "I haven't even finished telling you guys about how I got hurt." She's not whining. She's not.

"Sorry, Catra," Scorpia says sincerely. "What happened?"

"It was the secret weapon!" Catra answers immediately. "It came out of nowhere, and it moved at the speed of lightning! It was just small enough to evade my grasp, and it has razor-sharp blades that it uses to slice the enemy into ribbons."

"Okay, that does sound pretty weird," Entrapta says. "What did this thing look like?"

"It was hard to get a good look because of how fast it was moving," Catra says, happy that they're finally taking this seriously. "But it was gray and fuzzy all over, I'm pretty sure, with two pointy ears on top of its head." She motions to her own head to demonstrate. "And four limbs, each tipped with those lethal sharp instruments."

As she talks, Scorpia moves one pincer to cover her mouth, and her eyes are suspiciously bright. Entrapta has her head cocked, the way she does when she's trying to work out a particularly hard engineering problem.

"Catra..." they say simultaneously, and then each wave at the other person to go first.

"Just spit it out!" Catra snaps.

Scorpia squares her shoulders and looks Catra in the eye. "Catra, are you sure you weren't fighting...a cat?" The last word is said in a wobbly voice.

"What the hell is a cat?"

"It's you," Entrapta says less than helpfully. "Well, miniature you. Just like these miniature brownies I'm about to eat!"

"Help me crack the eggs, will you?" Scorpia asks. "They never come out right when I use my claws, and then the yolk gets everywhere."

"That thing was not me!" Catra says calmly. Well, she tries to say it calmly, but it comes out as more of a screech. "I look nothing like that--scrunched up, puny, hairy-- _cat_."

"Those scratches on your face and arms do look a lot like when you scratch me," Scorpia says thoughtfully. "Just smaller, of course."

"Did the cat say anything to you?" Entrapta asks.

"Just a bunch of rude aspersions about my ancestry and general body odor," Catra responds automatically before it hits her. "I don't--I mean--"

"Right, but it wasn't actually talking, was it?" Entrapta says with a knowing glint in her eyes.

"I bet it was hissing, like when you get wet without expecting it," Scorpia chimes in. "Now I'm glad I can't understand you when you do that!"

"I don't--no! I do not speak the same language as that monster, and we are not related at all," Catra says. "You're both crazy!" And then, just to hammer the point home, she walks out of the kitchen so that she has a door to slam.

Unfortunately, that means she's on the other side of the door where the baking brownies are just beginning to release their sweet scent.

...Dammit.

  
*     *     *

  
The next time she sees the weapon, she's prepared. Instead of going after Adora in her stupid jumped-up She-Ra costume--seriously, overcompensating much?--Catra dives after the thing as soon as it perks its fuzzy little head up over the cropping of rocks. She's re-calibrated her mission priority system, and neutralizing the secret weapon is the only task that is more high-priority than taking down She-Ra. It's the only reasonable thing to do, Catra rationalizes to herself. There's no telling what other dangerous powers the weapon has yet to unleash.

But even though Catra knows for a fact that she judged the trajectory of the pounce correctly, aiming to land on the weapon and _not_  on She-Ra, somehow she ends up on top of She-Ra anyway. Right after their heads collide with a solid, painful crash.

"Ow!" they shout in identical, surprised tones.

Between them, the little monster darts away through their legs, completely untouched.

"No! Fluffy! Come back! You're not supposed to be here!" Adora yells, and when she tries to dive after the weapon, Catra reels her back in by her hair.

"What's the weapon designation? Did you say Fury?" Catra demands.

"Let go of me! She's going to get hurt!" Adora says, eyes wide and panicked, and Catra is surprised enough that when Adora shoves her aside, she doesn't try to fight it. Catra rolls harmlessly to one side while Adora sprints over to the stupid thing just as it's about to skitter under a tank, and she scoops it up in one excessively large hand.

Ignoring Catra completely, Adora brings the ball of fur to her face and coos at it, like an imbecile. "There you are, love. Are you okay? Were you scared by all those loud noises?"

"Loud noises?" Catra repeats in disbelief. "We're in the middle of a battlefield!"

Adora continues like she didn't hear Catra say anything. "I've got you now. You're safe with me." Tucking the beast under her chin, she skritches gently behind its big ugly ears while it starts up a low-level purr.

As she watches the loving tableau, an uncomfortable feeling is creeping its way up Catra's throat. She tries to shove it down, because emotions are for the weak, but it's no good. She doesn't have a lot of practice identifying her emotions--she prefers to suppress them whenever possible--so she's not quite sure what this particular feeling is. Regret? Longing? Envy? Whatever it is, it's making her bile rise. Snarling to get the taste out of her mouth, Catra balls her hands into fists and marches over to Adora and her stupid weapon to start yelling again.

But before she takes two steps, the monster opens its eyes and fixes Catra with an unblinking, bright yellow stare. It looks almost...smug. Maintaining eye contact with Catra, it purrs louder and rubs its head against Adora's neck, making her giggle and aww at the creature.

It's _obscene_. Catra can't believe that little pervert had the gall to scent-mark Adora like that in public! The last person to scent-mark Adora was...was...

"You damn well better stop that right now--" Catra sputters.

"Don't be jealous because she likes me more," the monster meows.

"She does _not_  like you more."

"I heard you two used to be friends," it drawls. "Looks like she's upgraded from a half-breed. I don't even want to guess at what your parents looked like."

"I WILL KILL YOU," Catra screeches, but she falls silent when Adora turns a horrified look on her.

Catra's earned her share of horrified looks from Adora, especially when she was dropping her down cliffs and hurting her new best friends, but for some reason, this one really cuts deep.

"Don't you _dare_  hurt Fluffy," Adora snaps out. "She's innocent of all of this!"

"She is the farthest thing from innocent--"

"Glimmer! I need emergency transport back to the castle! This little troublemaker hitched a ride where she didn't belong," Adora says in a disgustingly fond voice. She brings the creature back up to her face, and the thing rubs its head _all over Adora's cheeks_. Catra sees red.

"Didn't you hear what it was saying about me?" Catra says desperately. "You can't trust it! It's a con artist!"

Adora stares at her like she's sprouted another head. And before Catra can say anything else, Glimmer materializes to teleport Adora and her new parasite into thin air.

Catra stares at the empty space, brooding. This can't stand. She needs to formulate a plan. She needs to get that lying sack of fluff away from Adora. She needs to--

A grenade flies into Catra's field of vision, and she has just enough time to blink at it stupidly before it explodes in deafening spray of shrapnel. Catra sinks, with no small sense of relief, into blissful unconsciousness.

  
*     *     *

 

"...Catra? Catra?"

The voices sound faintly above her, and she feels like she's slogging through swamp-like darkness toward them. But the further she slogs, the more the rest of her body starts to hurt, pinpricks of pain at the periphery of her consciousness. Catra's more inclined to slide back into the comforting darkness, except something wraps around her arms and shakes her, vigorously.

"Aaaargghhh!" Catra yowls and bolts straight up in the infirmary bed.

"I thought you were faking," Entrapta says with satisfaction, pulling back her pigtails. "I could see your eyes moving underneath your lids. And your heartbeat spiked--these new machines I upgraded are super sensitive, there's no fooling 'em!"

"Great," Catra says.

"How are you feeling?" Scorpia asks, moving to her side. "You don't look so hot. I mean, don't get me wrong, you always look great, but, um..."

"You have two black eyes and a line of dried blood coming out of your nose," Entrapta says. She looks more fascinated than concerned. "How's your vision? Any lingering effects?"

"No," Catra says shortly. "Can someone tell me what the hell happened?"

"Actually, we were hoping to ask you that," Scorpia says.

"To set the stage--there was a grenade, it went kaboom, and you became collateral damage," Entrapta says unhelpfully.

"But it was like you were in some weird trance," Scorpia says. "You were just standing there...and the grenade, well, it was coming right at you. With your enhanced senses, you should have been able to dodge it in your sleep."

"Plus, we yelled at you to move," Entrapta adds. "Like a lot."

"You just kept staring into space and moving your lips like you were talking, but nothing was coming out," Scorpia continues. "It was pretty creepy, to be honest. Did She-Ra use some kind of mind control ray on you?"

"Mind-control ray! Scorpia, you're a genius. _That's_  what my inventions are missing!" Entrapta says gleefully.

"No!" Catra says. "I mean, yes, that would be an incredibly useful invention and you should go work on it, Entrapta. But Adora didn't...hypnotize me, or whatever. I was just distracted."

"She did look particularly good this morning," Scorpia muses. "I think she did something different to her hair. I guess I can't blame you too much."

"She didn't--I don't--eww!" Catra finally spits out, trying to infuse as much feeling as she can into the exclamation. It still comes out flat. "I am _not_  attracted to Adora. That's--that's crazy talk."

"If you weren't distracted by She-Ra's perfect physique and voluminous golden hair, then what were you distracted by?" Entrapta asks, all suspiciously polite reasonableness.

Catra seizes on the question like a lifeline. "The secret weapon! The one I've been trying to tell you guys about!"

Scorpia blinks at her. "Do you mean...the cat?"

"It was back on the battlefield to wreak havoc! And it keeps taunting me, I swear it-- _mmph!_ "

"Do you like that?" Scorpia says hopefully, spoon held up in one proffered claw.

Catra swallows down the mouthful of dessert Scorpia shoved in her mouth, and glowers. "...Yes," she says grudgingly.

"Key lime pie," Entrapta puts in. "Maybe the most ideal post-mission snack possible. Light enough for your body to process while your cortisol levels decrease to normal amounts, and vitamins and electrolytes from the limes to help your muscles build themselves back up. Well done, Scorpia."

"I knew post-mission desserts were a winning idea!" Scorpia smiles widely, two pink spots appearing in her cheeks.

"And of course, sugar for a happy pick-me-up after an emotionally grueling engagement. Right, Catra?" Entrapta says slyly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Catra huffs. "But that--that _cat_  is up to no good! Someone has to stop it, and it looks like it's going to be me."

"Sure," Scorpia says, drawing the word out. Sarcasm doesn't suit her. "Well, you keep, um, thinking about how to defeat...a cat. I'm going to go check on the other pie."

"Ooh, I'll come with you. I can draw up preliminary plans for the mind control ray in the kitchen."

"Fine!" Catra yells as they turn to leave the infirmary. "I wanted to be alone, anyway!"

"Good luck, Catra! Distract it with anchovy bars and a ball of yarn!" Entrapta yells back, a giggle in her voice.

"Or a life-size cut-out of She-Ra. It's like she's catnip..." Scorpia mutters to Entrapta, inaudible to human ears but just loud enough for Catra to pick up.

Catra scowls. But the anchovy ration bar thought isn't bad, for all that Entrapta offered it up as a joke. Those two just don't understand the gravity of the situation. This cat crisis could be a matter of life and death. And the thought of the cat continuing to rub its mangy little body all over Adora--in fact, it could be doing that at this very moment!--Catra suppresses a growl that wells up from deep inside her. One way or another, she's got to get rid of that cat.

It's time to plan an assassination.

  
*     *     *

  
One week later, Catra is hanging from a crudely improvised pulley system, anchored at the highest peak of the Bright Moon castle and calculated to hang exactly in front of Adora's bedroom window. (How she knows where Adora's bedroom is located is not important; suffice to say she's done enough off-mission nighttime reconnaissance to be sure.) Her waist is encircled with a utility belt crammed full of anchovy ration bars, and their scent keeps drifting tantalizingly up to Catra's nose. She needs to continually remind herself that the bars are for the target and can't be consumed until the target is safely neutralized.

Most importantly, the utility belt also contains a syringe full of a poisonous green liquid that Entrapta had assured her would be enough to knock out ten cats.

Some--like Scorpia and Entrapta--might wonder how Catra's life has gotten to this point, but those people are _stupid_. Catra has clearly made all the right choices here.

But as she maneuvers one leg over the window sill, the sight that greets her is worse than anything she could have possibly imagined.

There's no feasible way to extract the cat without alerting Adora. Because _the cat is sleeping in her bed right next to her face_. Catra has to fight back nausea at the scene. The way the cat is nestled peacefully into the pillow, sheathed claws only inches away from Adora's nose, tail waving with each breath Adora takes. The way Adora has one hand curved, protective, around the curl of the cat's spine. Overcome with revulsion, Catra leans back out the window slightly and spits.

There's no use for it. Catra's come this far, and she's not leaving before she's murdered that presumptuous, thieving little con artist. Reaching into the utility belt, Catra quietly crumbles up a small portion of one anchovy bar, and then tosses it about halfway between the bed and the window.

In the enclosed space, the pungent fish smell wafts through the air even though Catra only used a small amount. Eyeing the cat closely, Catra smirks in satisfaction when she sees the pink nose twitch in response. Carefully, Catra repeats the step with a slightly larger chunk.

"Here, kitty," Catra urges almost soundlessly. "C'mere..."

The cat's eyes flutter open. As soon as it wakes up, it's up and moving almost mindlessly toward the anchovy bar crumbs on the floor. Deftly, it jumps over Adora's arm and then onto the floor, and it pads almost all of the way to the food when it freezes. In a slow, sleep-fogged twist of its head, it turns to lock eyes with Catra.

"Oh. You," it meows.

"Want the food?" Catra meows back. "There's more where that came from." She juggles the rest of the bar from one hand to the other, enticingly.

As though it can't help itself, it takes a few more steps toward the crumbs on the floor, and nibbles at the bar. "Mmm!" it coos. "Oh, this is so good. Oh yes. Oh my."

"That's it..." Catra croons. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

"Yummy," the cat agrees through a mouthful of anchovy ration bar. "But what's the catch?"

"No catch," Catra says reassuringly. "I just figured the Rebellion didn't have this kind of processed anchovy goodness, and I wanted to share. One cat to another."

To its credit, the cat still looks wary, but it crosses the rest of the distance until it's only few feet away from Catra.

"Yes!" Catra hisses, and before the cat can retreat, she pounces and grabs it up. As she's holding the writhing, snarling cat in her tear-proof gloves, Catra feels nothing but the ecstatic sensation of victory. She can't stop a deep, maniacal laugh from bubbling up in her throat.

"Wha...?" Adora mumbles.

The sound kills the laughter as swiftly as a gunshot.

As Adora lifts her sleep-mussed head from the pillow, blinking her eyes in tired confusion, Catra can't do anything except clutch the cat tighter and stare at Adora's shocked face with big eyes.

They stare at each other for one endless moment until Adora says, "Catra? What are you doing here?"

And in a fit of panic, Catra heaves the cat over the window sill and just. Lets go.

The yowl continues for several seconds before cutting abruptly off.

  
*     *     *

  
The next few seconds are something of a blur. Catra says "Heyyyy, Adora," to which Adora screams, " _Catra, how could you do this!_ " and then Catra says something like "oops?" and Adora bellows " _What do you mean, OOPS?_ " and Catra shrugs her shoulders, and...and then Adora throws a bookcase at her.

Granted, it's an empty bookcase, but it's still pretty impressive.

"Okay, wait wait wait!" Catra says, holding her hands out in supplication. "I bet the stupid cat is fine!"

"You threw her out of the castle window!" Adora shouts, volume control apparently still broken.

"Well, sure, but you startled me." When Adora roars, Catra quickly continues, "And also, cats land on their feet! Everyone knows that!" At least, I land on my feet, she adds mentally.

Adora rushes over to the window, and they both lean out to look. Catra holds her breath.

True to her word, the cat is seated on the ground, several leaves stuck in its fur but otherwise unruffled. It's eating an anchovy bar that apparently fell out of the utility belt while Catra was climbing.

"Oh," Adora says shakily, all the wind gone out of her sails.

"I definitely knew that was going to happen," Catra says, but the statement only makes Adora narrow her eyes in suspicion.

"Catra, what are you doing here? Why were you holding Fluffy? And why does my room smell so much like fish?"

"What's up with the third degree," Catra grumbles. "Can't a girl visit her former best friend turned ultimate nemesis once in a while?"

But Adora's always been sharper than other people gave her credit for, and she studies Catra more closely, eyes jumping from the crumbs on the floor to Catra's half-opened utility belt, and then finally the open window.

"You were trying to do something with Fluffy!" she accuses. "You were luring her with those fishy bars you love."

"Those were for me," Catra says weakly. "I get nibbly at night."

"No, you don't," Adora shoots back. "Food upsets your stomach when it's too late at night. You get _thirsty,_ and you insist on drinking a full glass of water before bed even though you and I both know you'll be getting up in the middle of the night to go pee and probably step on me in the process. Those anchovy bars would only have made you thirstier." When Catra tries to protest, Adora crosses her arms and says, "I defected, I didn't lose my memory."

"Could've fooled me," Catra mutters, a hint of the familiar bitterness creeping back into her tone, and she turns to face the window. "On that note, this has been awful, let's never do it again."

It would have been the perfect exit line, too, but as usual Adora refuses to cooperate. In three huge steps she has Catra pinned against the wall, her face shoved up close next to hers.

"Not before you tell me what you were planning on doing with Fluffy," Adora says between her teeth. "What did you want with her? Why were you trying to take her back to the Horde with you? She's just an innocent kitten--not even full-grown--"

Catra can't help it, she starts laughing despite the scowl that grows on Adora's face. "Take--take that hellspawn with me? Back to the Horde? Where it'd probably claw through all my things and leave hair everywhere?" As she imagines it, the laughter quickly dies in her throat. What a fucking nightmare. It would probably turn Catra's _other_  friends against her, too, and scent-mark the entire compound until nowhere was safe.

"If you weren't trying to kidnap Fluffy, what were you trying to do to her?" Adora asks. Her grip on Catra's shoulders tightens to the point of pain.

Catra tries to surreptitiously nudge the tip of the syringe back into the pocket of her utility belt. For some reason, saying "kill the cat" in the quiet, moonlit bedroom, with no one around but her and Adora...It just sounds a lot more unreasonable than it had before. So Catra reverts to her old stand-by: the best defense is always a good offense.

"Why are you keeping the ball of fur around, anyway? It's useless and sheds everywhere and can't keep a civil tongue in its head to save its life." Literally.

"What do you--I don't need a _reason_. She keeps me company! And she's really soft and warm at night, and she makes the cutest little purrs when I pet her. Not everybody has to have a purpose, Catra," Adora says in that infuriatingly preachy tone of hers.

"Oh, can it. You know as well as I do that you would never keep that thing around unless you weren't getting something out of it. Companionship, I guess, in this case." When Adora opens her mouth to respond, cheeks blushing red in outrage, Catra talks right over her. "What do you need companionship for, anyway? You've got all those new princess friends to keep you company. Hard to believe a mangy old cat could compete."

"She's not mangy!" Adora says immediately and predictably. "She's--well, she's fluffy."

"She looks like a misshappen storm cloud on legs."

"And sometimes it gets lonely at night, okay? I got used to sleeping with a bunch of other people around in the Fright Zone. Everything is too...too quiet around here." Adora's voice dips low and hesitant by the end of the sentence, and she's looking down at her hands, twisting around fruitlessly.

Catra blinks, momentarily silenced. "Yeah, Kyle's snoring always puts me right to sleep," she tries because she can't think of anything else, and then inwardly kicks herself afterward. But Adora's always been able to see right through her, and she pins her down with those big blue eyes. They still look open and trusting and vulnerable, even after everything she's done. It shouldn't be allowed.

"I got used to having someone else in my bed," Adora continues, so quiet she's almost whispering. "Fluffy is almost as good as the real thing."

"Well that's stupid," Catra announces.

Adora sputters at her, shoulders going back up in defense and eyes flashing hurt, but Catra doesn't let her spin her wheels for too long. She shoves Adora, probably rougher than she needs to be, until Adora backs up one step, and then another.

"You've got the real thing right here," Catra says, and pushes Adora backwards onto the bed. She doesn't waste any time in unbuckling her utility belt and sliding off her mask.

"W-wait, I'm not so sure about this," Adora is stammering, but Catra doesn't pay her any mind, making herself comfortable under the covers and then nudging Adora around like she's a doll until she's in the right position.

She keeps moving, because if she stops, she's going to start over-thinking this, and the truth is--the truth is, this is simple. This is a simple problem with a simple fix and despite everything...Catra hasn't been sleeping well, either. Between Kyle's snoring and the empty bunk below her and nobody to steal the covers from, it just hasn't been the same.

"Catra..." Somehow, Adora is still managing to keep whining, so Catra puts a single finger on her lips. Adora nearly goes cross-eyed trying to look down at it, but at least it shuts her up.

"Sleep time now," Catra says. And then she nestles her head into the crook between Adora's head and shoulder, the best, warmest place to be. She can feel Adora's pulse underneath her cheek, thudding hard at first but then slowly evening out into the rhythm that Catra knows as well as her own. Adora is stiff, at first, but when Catra snuggles in harder, her muscles untense, and she lets out a soft sigh. Even the pace of Adora's breathing is familiar to her.

There's just one thing missing. Catra frowns, and then wiggles her head pointedly in Adora's direction. After a few heartbeats, Adora gets the hint, and she starts carding one hand through Catra's hair, scratching lightly in exactly the right way behind her ears. A soft rumble starts up in Catra's chest that she refuses to call a purr.

If she closes her eyes now, she can almost imagine that nothing has changed.

Of course, then Adora has to open her big mouth.

"We can't just leave Fluffy outside," she says. It's a sleepy protest, one that's willing to be overridden.

"The cat will be fine. Fluffy probably misses the outdoors." Catra rubs her head against Adora's neck some more, just to make sure the damn cat's scent is well and truly masked. "Besides," Catra mutters. "That cat is a freaking pervert."

"What?!"

Ignoring her, Catra wriggles until her head is pillowed over Adora's breasts. Ahhh. Much better.

The last thing she remembers before she falls asleep is a light kiss on the crown of her head.

 

End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some extra bits of headcanon:  
> The cat definitely smuggles its way back to the Fright Zone with Catra, which she does not discover until it's too late.  
> Yes, she then tries to inject it with the syringe.
> 
> ...It's lime juice. Left over from the pie. Entrapta isn't crazy.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this piece of nonsense! For a story that has literally one punchline, it's definitely many more words than it should be...
> 
> Also, come find me on tumblr @manypiecesofreeses <3


End file.
